As I sit listening to ‘Away in a Manger’ with my twin girls who are about to turn three, it reminds me that just a couple of years ago, ‘no crib for a bed’ was a very real reality. Oh and how I yearned to know that in years to come, my girls would sit with me, us singing together. It was also one of the handful of songs I would sing to them that first Christmas.
My due date wasn’t until March and when the consultants in a hospital many miles away from our home, decided I needed to deliver the babies at 27 weeks, there were many frantic conversations about needing to be transferred where cots were available. I already was so very frightened because of their imminent pre-term birth, the ‘fight’ they had ahead, my own worsening health with Pre-Eclampsia, and already not in our local hospital, we hoped we wouldn’t have to transfer again.
The girls were born just ten days before Christmas in 2021, weighing only 677g and 500g. Our worst fears quickly became reality when just 11 hours after her birth, one of our baby girls had to transfer to a NICU with a surgical team. I rallied to get better and be discharged so I could be with her, a week later. We also transferred her sister to be in the same hospital too, so we could at least have the girls together. Their incubators finally back next to each other on the 23rd December.
And that I guess was Christmas. Their first Christmas. A whirlwind of major surgeries, clinical procedures, blood transfusions, and us, as their parents, trying to familiarise ourselves with Neonatal Care and being on a unit. First time parents who never wished to feel such sadness at the birth of our children. Such sadness that they had to ‘fight’ a battle, we wished with every fibre of our being, we could have taken away and fought for them.
For us, we could only hope that they would have other Christmases too. That we could entirely re-write that ‘first’, and the next year, mark it instead with twinkly lights, family time and us all sleeping under the same roof together. Knowing we endured it and we could celebrate them because spending Christmas on a NICU/Neonatal Unit, can feel lonely. Like the rest of the world is still spinning and celebrating, and you’re in slow motion. Recovering from birth, learning how to navigate not taking your baby immediately home, and ultimately, hoping that you will soon.
Looking back, that first Christmas, we needed our family’s offers of food, of washing our clothes, of in many ways pausing their Christmas too. Keeping us in their thoughts, knowing that our world was completely different. December can feel intense, its often a hive of social events, families celebrating together plastered all over adverts and television, and to have a baby born sick or pre-term too, it can be a reminder of everything your world isn’t right now. Take all of the offers of help and support!
Maybe I was naïve when I was on the unit and thought if we made it to discharge, we could leave it all behind. I realise now, those memories we will always carry with us, but particularly in this season as we mark the girls’ birthday and Christmas, it makes us go out to see Christmas lights more often, to get the Christmas photo shoot, eat Christmas party food often, and to always make time for making new Christmas memories. I know for certain there really was other Christmases to follow after that first!
We spent just under 150 nights in NICU and finally took both girls home in May 2022. Whilst they endured so many medical events during their hospital stays, and they still require follow up for several longer lasting effects of their prematurity, this chapter of our lives is far brighter than our wildest hopes. The girls are still incredibly determined and resilient (wow – weathering this in the toddler years, is now quite something!), chat away all day long, and really are the best of friends. I would search for hours at the time for stories of hope for low birthweight, pre-term babies, longing to know what their futures could look like. Something I’ve learnt is how their future really is in their hands and we often meet people who are in disbelief that they really once were 677g and 500g babies. I hope our story will always bring hope to those who are there right now.
